Not Even a Decent Photograph
by Alex the Anachronistic
Summary: Post DH. It's after the war. Hermione and Ron are making a memorial for those who died. Guess who is not there? Is it Dumbledore, Severus Snape, or Harry?


DISCLAIMER: I am making no money off of this, and this site isn't either. This is purely fan-fiction written by a weird person who has absolutely nothing better to do than write this stuff. I don't own Harry Potter, Hogwarts, Snape, etc. J.K.R. does.

Not Even a Decent Photograph

The war with Voldemort had ended three months ago, but the country still could not cease to lick its wounds. A great number of magnificent wizards, small and large, had been defeated to return England and the rest of Europe to bear peace and sobriety. Some of these men and women were for the good side, a multitude for the bad side, and a scant few who seemed to straddle the two dimensions up to the end.

Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley were amongst the survivors, and they were getting married in a month.

"Ron. Please take this box of . . . whatever this stuff is . . . and leave it in the study. We still need to look through it."

Ron, with a slight harrumph, obeyed his fiancé (it was so strange to think of her as that!) easily. He came back into the newest room of the Elius Barnaby II Wizard Memorial Museum to put his arm easily around Hermione. She was surveying the work they had done over the past few days, to get this exhibit ready for its dedication.

"I think the Albus Dumbledore Room" Hermione began, using the proper name for the chamber, as always "Looks quite good. Definitely, it does a great tribute to the heroes of the War. What do you think?"

"Stunning. You've done a bloody good job."

"We, remember?" Hermione nuzzled her head against the chest of her strong quidditch-playing soon-to-be-husband. The latter smiled, and put his arm around her.

"However . . . " The note in her voice was a warning to Ron. He cast a look towards the heavens, as if to say 'Please no more boxes of worthless junk to lug, please . . . '

"However," Hermione stated again, "There is someone missing from here. I know it."

She faced Ron with a look of shock. "I can't believe that we could have forgot anyone! That would be horrible . . . really too horrible . . ." Hermione scanned the room, so full of moving pictures and portraits, thinking.

"Well," Ron ventured, "We've definitely got Dumbledore."

They simultaneously gulped lumps of emotion down their throats.

"And," Hermione continued, "And Tonks."

"And poor old Fred."

"And Lupin! Bloody hell, I still think that's a great picture of him, though."

Hermione, however, would not be distracted from her mental checklist. "And Sirius . . . oh, we had to have him!"

"And Mad-Eye. Not that _his _picture is so good, though. But you know, aside from that, I'm really surprised that more of us Weasley's didn't get knocked off, you kno—"

"--And Hedwig."

"And Colin Creevey."

They began to rattle off names of the dead whose names you, my dear reader, would not recognize.

"And even Dobby."

Hermione bit her lip as she finished this last pronouncement. The couple held hands.

"You know," Ron put in, "I do think we're missing someone. Someone important. Who did a lot."

Suddenly, Hermione's eyes fluttered wide.

"I know," she whispered, "Snape."

Ron started. "You know," he said with a hint of reverence, "I believe you're right. After what he did for us . . . and for helping Harry . . ." Ron shook his thick red hair. "Without his help, I don't think Harry could have won against . . ."

Hermione nodded. "I know Harry would not have won. He is—was at the time—a strong boy. But he wasn't ever a man. Not man enough to face You-know-who alone. With Snape's memories, though, he changed considerably enough until he could save us all. He made a transformation into adulthood only spurred on by the man he most hated, one of the few adults who ever refused to coddle him like a little child and told him the stark truth every time--no matter how much Harry did not want to hear it!"

Ron said nothing in reply. Then Hermione rose.

"No. Snape definitely deserves a place in here."

"If we can find the space to cram his image somewhere," muttered Ron.

"Come on!" Hermione grabbed Ron's hand. "I believe that last box was from his sister, I recall signing for it last week. It came in the Muggle mail."

"Sister?" Ron asked. "What sister?"

"Snape had a sister. She was a squib, so he never spoke of her."

"And . . . how do you know this?"

"Your mother."

" . . . Oh. Right. Wait, how come she never told me that?"

At this point, they spoke not a word until the last untouched box had been divested of its contents, and these spread across the floor.

Hermione and Ron leafed through documents, receipts, and many other articles that once had belonged to Snape and/or his family. No pictures of Severus whatsoever. At the bottom of the box, there was, however, a note.

_Dear Miss Granger, _

_I heard that you were setting up this memorial in Cantebury, a wall of pictures someone told me. I swear I tried to find some photo or other picture of my brother, because my informant assured me that you needed pictures of all the participants in the war, but I don't even have one. Sorry. _

_Yours, _

_Sylvia Snape _

Hermione shook her head. "This . . . this is very sad," she whispered, and hugged Ron. "Imagine being hated so much that no one ever even took a proper picture of you . . ."

At this, there was a cheery knock on the window, and an owl flew in, bearing a heavy-looking parcel, with a note. The note and box dropped to the ground, and the owl, whom the pair knew to be named Shillings, flew away.

Hermione took the note, then smiled. "She's saying _again _that this is the last box of photographs she's got." Hermione tried to put on a more light-hearted attitude. "I guess Narcissa Malfoy just doesn't know what to do with all of her husband's junk. Really, Ron, she's quite a nice lady, once you get to know her."

Ron mumbled something noncommittal, and he opened the box.

Then he shuddered.

On the very top was a picture of Severus, being held up in the air, frantically trying to get himself down. James Potter and Sirius Black laughed beneath him.

"What is it, Ron?" Hermione stood, and she gasped too.

"This is NOT going in the memorial . . ."

Then she began to sob on her fiancée's shoulder.

* * *

_This is a tale in memory of Severus Snape, who died in HP7. I wrote this originally the night that HP7 came out, while waiting for my edition to come, basically in prediction of who I thought was going to die. I was about half right. I modified it to be consistant with the new book as of October 2007, however._


End file.
